


The Adorable Lanky Man

by riddikulusgrin (klavgavtrash)



Series: Ace/Aro Fics [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aromantic, Aromantic Sherlock, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexual Sherlock, Asexuality, Gen, Platonic Romance, Platonic Soulmates, platonic marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 04:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klavgavtrash/pseuds/riddikulusgrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times John called Sherlock adorable. Shameless platonic fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Adorable Lanky Man

**Author's Note:**

> No Mary, because I had the idea for this since before she was announced, and I don't like writing a character we haven't met yet in canon anyway. 
> 
> (Not because I don't like Mary. Want to make that clear.)

"I think you're adorable." Said John, surprising himself. Sherlock sat at his microscope at the kitchen table, and although John had not meant to say the words, he knew they were true. The way he was so focused in his work _was_ endearing.

There was a long pause and for a moment John wondered if Sherlock has even heard him. He moved over to the kettle and had started brewing tea when Sherlock looked up at him.

"Do you know _why_ you think this?"

"What? No. It's just a thought, Sherlock."

Sherlock looked at him shrewdly then returned his gaze to whatever it was he was studying. Guessing that Sherlock had grown bored of the conversation already, John returned his attention to the teapot.

"Are you developing romantic feelings for me?" Asked Sherlock suddenly, causing John to almost pour scalding water over himself.

"Jesus, Sherlock. No, I'm not." His hands were shaking slightly as he poured the tea into the mugs and added milk. He placed a cup of tea down in front of the detective and sat across from him at the table, nursing his own mug.

Sherlock ignored the tea. "It's ok if you are. I can't reciprocate of course, but I wouldn't be affected."

"I know it's ok, but I'm not in love with you."

"And yet you think I'm 'adorable'." Sherlock's head was tilted as he looked at him.

John put his mug down with a little more force than he intended. "It wasn't- I'm not having this conversation with you."

Sherlock left him in peace for all of three seconds. "I'm curious. How would you define your feelings for me?"

John sighed, aware he was about to either boost Sherlock's ego exponentially or scare him away. "You mean a lot to me. I know you don't appreciate the sentiment, but you're my best friend."

John could almost see Sherlock's mind working. "You're right. I don't appreciate the sentiment. But thank you anyway."

"So what about you? How would you you, uh, define your feelings?" He fiddled with the teaspoon in his hand, avoiding Sherlock's gaze.

"I would have thought that would be obvious, John. I love you."

The teaspoon clattered to the table. "I'm sorry?"

"Not romantically of course, nothing so mundane of that. And not the love one would share with a family member - neither of us have much experience with that."

"So as a friend, then?"

"Don't be dull, John. You mean far more to me than an average friend, if you haven't noticed."

"But you don't love me romantically."

"No."

John squeezed the bridge of his nose, torn between exasperation and fondness. He knew his relationship with Sherlock wasn't normal, that they were so close that a lot of people got confused. He knew that if he was watching their relationship from the sidelines, he'd assume there was something romantic going on. But there wasn't, Because John was straight and Sherlock was... whatever Sherlock was. Asexual, probably.

Both he and Sherlock knew what they meant to each other, so the fact that he was now skirting around actually saying it was ridiculous. Sherlock had somehow managed to sum up their relationship perfectly, in that blunt way of his. John had never been good with expressing emotion, but Sherlock was if anything worse than him, and he'd said it.

And now Sherlock was looking at him with something like uncertainty in his eyes, and John realised that maybe Sherlock didn't know how John felt after all.

"Right. Ok. Well I- I love you too."

A genuine smile spread across Sherlock's face. "I had rather hoped so."

* * *

The case was going fine until they got assaulted in an alleyway. One second they were keeping watch the next they were ambushed by two heavily tattooed men. Sherlock was in a fighting stance in seconds and John was right beside him.

The men were big but surprisingly inept fighters. One man threw a punch that hit Sherlock square in the face and blood started gushing from his nose, but Sherlock was able to overpower him. John took his opponents feet out from under him as Sherlock grabbed his attackers wrists and cuffed him. Lestrade and Donovan arrived as Sherlock put the second pair of cuffs on the man John had left sprawled on the ground.

Sally pulled them up and directed them to the police car, and John turned to Sherlock.

"You knew they were going to attack when they saw us, didn't you?"

"I had a suspicion-"

"Don't give me that. You had the cuffs with you. Why didn't you tell me?"

Sherlock let out a puff of air and John remembered the blood that was drying around Sherlock's nose. He took a tissue from his pocked and started to rub at it, and Sherlock's face crumpled in displeasure. "You adorable idiot." He said fondly, "you should have said something. Maybe then we could have spared your nose."

"I was in no danger. Those two aren't used to fighting."

"I should be so mad at you right now."

"But you're not, as illustrated by the fact you called me 'adorable' again."

He pulled Sherlock's head down and pressed a kiss to his temple, enjoying how normal it felt. "You are." He said, resting his forehead against Sherlock's for a moment.

There was a pointed cough and John sprung away like he'd been doing something he shouldn't.

Donovan and Lestrade were both staring at them. "Oh, shut up." Said Sherlock. "John and I have not entered a romantic relationship, as you very well know, Lestrade, as I'm sure you'd have been the first John would tell if we had."

"Well friends don't do that," said Sally, "So what do you call it then? A platonic romance?"

Sherlock looked ready to make an scathing retort so John grabbed his hand. Sally's eyebrows shot upwards. "Yeah." Said John, smiling in spite of himself. "That fits."

* * *

On their six year anniversary (not that John had realised) Sherlock clambered into bed with him. It was just past midnight and John was about to doze off, but Sherlock's cold feet shocked him into wakefulness.

"What're you doing?" He asked, his voice groggy from tiredness.

Sherlock shushed him and John felt an arm be thrown over him and curly hair tickle is neck. They'd never shared a bed before, but like everything else with Sherlock, it felt perfectly natural.

John chuckled. "You better not kick in your sleep."

"I assure you I do not."

John pulled Sherlock's hand from his chest and kissed his palm lightly. "What bought this on?"

"Six years ago today, you said 'I love you too' and we entered this partnership."

John let out a low whistle. "Six years?"

He felt Sherlock nod in the dark, his hair scratching John's neck. They stayed like that, in silence, until John heard Sherlock's breathing become deep and steady. "Happy anniversary." He whispered into the darkness.

He awoke to streaming sunlight and Sherlock sprawled almost diagonally across his bed, limbs everywhere. "Adorable." He murmured. Six years later, Sherlock hadn't changed a bit.

He left him sleeping and went to make breakfast.

* * *

It had been Sherlock who bought up retirement, lying on the sofa at 221B. He and Sherlock weren't that old, both of them in their late 50s, but they simply weren't up to it anymore. John's back pained him and Sherlock had injured his hip several years ago, walking with a cane. The legwork, as Mycroft had called it, was getting to them.

John was shocked at first. "You want us to retire? Together?"

"Yes, John. I fail to see how this surprises you."

"Well... Married couples retire together."

Sherlock swung his legs around one the sofa to face him, an action that took considerable more care than it would have several years ago. He didn't say anything. "What do you deduce from that?"

John stared at him. "Are you proposing?"

Sherlock squirmed in his seat. "Yes."

"Platonic partners don't get married."

"I'd consider our partnership to be much closer and more stable than that of several married couples we know. Financially, a marriage would make things much easier."

"You old romantic." Sherlock raised his eyebrows and John ran a hand through his now entirely grey hair. "You're right. You mean more to me than any wife would, anyway... what the hell. Let's get married."

Sherlock produced a ring box and threw it for John to catch. John started to laugh. "You've been planning this!" He grinned, opening the box and seeing not a ring but a replica army dog tag. He turned it over to see the small words engraved on the surface. "Holmes and Watson".

"Mycroft insisted on the engraving."

"Mycroft was in on it? You really have had this planned." He got up from his armchair and moved over to Sherlock, sitting down next to him.

Sherlock's expression was one of feigned innocence. "I have no idea what you are talking about, John. It was an impulse buy."

"Impulse buy my arse, Sherlock." He said, pulling the lanky man into a sideways hug. "It's great. Really great."

Sherlock turned and buried his face in John's shoulder. "Does this mean we'll retire together?"

"Yes. I rather think it does."

Sherlock jumped up too quickly and tottered slightly. "Excellent! How do you feel about beekeeping?"

John smiled. "You're adorable."

 

 


End file.
